Nothing's Gonna Change My World
by MissDior777
Summary: This is a Beatle-related fanfiction I wasn't sure where to put. So I put it in "Across the Universe". I warned you. This is about John Lennon's fictional daughter he had with Cynthia in 1960.
1. Chapter 1

"Uncle Paul, am I an orphan?" I looked down at my bowl of oatmeal.

I could feel Paul McCartney stroking my hair gently above me. I didn't like picking favorites, so I called all my daddy's friends my uncles. You know, by friends I mean the rest of the Beatles. I always thought my daddy's favorite animal was a beetle…I mean, why else would he name a rock n' roll band after the bugs I find in the garden? My daddy said I was only seven, and I would understand a lot better later.

Paul bent down to look me in my navy blue eyes, "Beautiful, you have the best parents in the world. They're just having a little quarrel, that's all. You know, in those stories you read with mommy, all of the people who love each other have a fight once in a while, right?"

I frowned. I saw daddy talking to another lady and mommy did, too. She got mad and took me to Uncle Paul's while she talked to daddy. She didn't tell me much. "But what if mommy and daddy don't say sorry? Does that mean daddy isn't daddy anymore?"

He looked around, sighing. He looked back at me, and smiled a little bit. He didn't really smile, don't get the wrong idea. He only smiled a _tiny _bit. "Of course not," He poked my nose, "You'll always be your daddy's little girl."

"Pinky swear?" I pouted, holding out my pinky to Uncle Paul. I mean, how could I be sure if he was telling the truth? The only way I could do that was by pinky swearing with him.

He smirked at the finger and grasped it, petting me on the top of my head. "I promise. _Pinky _promise."

I giggled, slapping his hand away with all the force I could muster. "This is serious, Mr. McCartney!"

"Oh, really?" He raised an eyebrow, picking me up and twirling me around. "I could spin you around so much that you'll get terribly dizzy…you won't like that, would you?"

I shrugged, giggling uncontrollably. "Actually, I'm a ballerina, I could twirl on my own, thank you very much."

He put me down, putting his hands on his hips. "Well, then, Miss Lucy, show me your ballet shoes."

And I did. Daddy was in America when mommy bought me my ballet shoes when I started ballet. I hope daddy is still proud of me. I only showed him my ballet once.


	2. Chapter 2

**September 9, 1971**

**Liverpool, England  
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**1720 Menlove Avenue**

**12:00 PM**

It was 1971, and it was my 10th birthday as I was walking home from my ballet conditioning class. Your probably wondering why I'm going to ballet class on my birthday. Listen, first of all, ballet class is at 11:00 in the morning. I'll have plenty of time to act as idiotic and celebratory as I want once I improve my turnout in first position. Second of all, I wouldn't miss ballet if my life depended on it. It was my pride and joy. The doctor would probably have to hook me up to my pointe shoes if I ever had to go on life support. My ballet teacher even said that if she sees a good attendance and work in ballet class, she would put me on pointe _early_. It was an offer I couldn't refuse. You have to be crazy to refuse.

I walked up the cobblestone steps of my house. It was a crummy house compared to what I remember when I was 7. My mother tells me that I remember too much, and should use my time to focus on happier things, more important things. She knew damn well that I loved my father as much as her. Don't get me wrong, there was nothing wrong with my step dad. He was Italian, so he made really good food. And he was really good at listening when I needed to talk. But I was happy that he was away for business on my birthday in a way, just because it was so much more fun when Uncle Paul was around. Mum didn't let him visit too much after she got re-married. I guess Roberto would have an inferiority complex if he was reminded who was _really _my father and who my father's best friend was. So I guess you can understand why I like my step dad being away so much, don't you?

Your probably wondering how I know what "inferiority complex" means and I'm only ten. Well, my mother also tells me that I read too much. Now let me get on with getting inside.

I opened the door with my spare key, to have the living room yell an exuberant, "SURPRISE!"

I scanned the room and beamed in exuberance at the scene. Everyone was there, my whole family. My ballet friends and a couple friends from school threw shiny pink confetti in the air (Julian was trying to pick up my ballet friend Jane, he can be such a prick, you know), while my mom rushed over with one of her bone-crushing hugs and started swallowing me in kisses. "Happy birthday, lovey."

"Happy birthday, beautiful," Uncle Paul pat me on the back, smiling.

Uncle George walked over with Aunt Pattie around his waist, giving his crooked smile. "Damn, the girl's 10 years old already. I feel like a grandpa, you know."

Uncle Ringo kissed me on the head. I only let them and my mom do that. I promised myself no boy would ever kiss me until I'm married. I wanted to be a princess, just like mother. She probably didn't let my dad kiss her that much, because she was a princess.

My mom was still hugging me. I tried to resist, "Mum, _mum_, I get it!" She pulled away and sighed, smirking fondly at me, "I love you, birthday girl."

"Love you too," I nodded, going on my toes to kiss her. Sometimes I was jealous of how pretty she was. She probably had boys chasing her at my age. My mum's blond hair was _so _pretty, just like the rest of her. I swear, she could make a dingy old gray turtleneck look like haute couture. That was my mother for you. People said she was "elegant". I just thought she was a princess.

"Cyn, your little girl is growing up," Linda nudged her, folding a piece of her cascading, straight blond locks behind her ear. Aunt Linda gave me her signature serene smile, bending down and holding up the camera in her arms. "Smile, beautiful."

Julian stampeded behind me, putting his arms around her. "It's big, monster sister's birthday," He laughed as he hugged me jokingly. "Julian!" I whined.

"Jules," My mother scolded him sharply, "Do you want me to keep you in the kitchen for the rest of the party..."

He looked down at his shoes, "No, m'aam."

She gave him a look and Julian trailed over to Uncle George, who was kind of snuggling with Pattie. Pattie was a goddess. I always loved the clothes she got me when she finished photoshoots. She had better taste then my mum. Mum was conservative, _too_ conservative. I can't wait until I'm a teenager, maybe then I will grow out of knee length skirts and grow my hair long and beautiful, like Linda or Pattie. See, when Uncle Paul did it, it was kinda scary. I hope he wouldn't look like a hobo, he would scare my friends away...

I walked over to the dining table to greet my friends, mostly from ballet school. People at my grammar school were mostly idiots. They liked the Beach Boys, or the Bee Jees, stuff like that. Julian and I listened to the Beatles. I know it sounded stupid, listening to your dad's own band, but there wasn't anything really to listen to besides ballet music. I liked The Beatles, and along with that my dad sometimes sent me Frank Zappa or Jimi Hendrix LP's. Uncle Paul would get me whatever I want when he traveled, he was a pal. Uncle George did too along with Pattie's goodies. Sometimes I felt bad, being the "pitied child" who would have to sit around in Westminster, barely going on vacation, just doing ballet. That's why I always made presents from their birthdays, mostly really small stuff since my mom was strict with money.

"Hiya, Lucy," Rebecca Cliff smiled widely at me, her red curls staying up in all directions, with a emerald green Elizabeth Taylor-style headband doing it's best to tame it in the front. Rebecca's mom was from Ireland, and her mom was the first person in her family to ever marry someone who wasn't Irish, but English. She's my neighbor. You never really see any of her outside family, they argue a lot. My mom always walked me and Rebecca to school every day. Rebecca could get really angry. One time she actually beat up this jerk in my class, Jeremy, for calling her a man-woman. She broke his nose. If she wasn't really angry, she was really happy. Rebecca had an amazing amount of energy...

I hugged her and told her, "Why the hell didn't you tell me about this thing? You know I hate surprises..."

As my mum passed me and into the kitchen, she warned me, "Lucy Julia Lennon, no foul language in my house. You know the rules, even though it's your birthday."

Rebecca put on the good face while mum walked, but then turned back to me, "Why would I? It was my idea anyway. While you were buying ice cream I told your mum last week."

I rolled my eyes playfully, hugging the rest of my friends: Jane, Clementine, Violet, and James.

I looked to James when we released from the hug, smirking playfully, "I'll open your present the first, just because it's the worst."

"Your right, I didn't really try. You're just a tag-a-long friend," He said sarcastically, making an exaggerated fake yawn.

I giggled. James Evans was destined to be on the Dick Cavett show, or have a best selling LP when he grew up. He was like a rockstar. He had straight chocolate brown hair, growing behind his ear and kicking out. His mom made him trim it, it never went to his shoulders. That was his goal. He said he wanted to be like those guys...oh, what's that long word...one of those "revolutionaries", he said. Who knows what that meant! James played the guitar and the piano, and is trying to convince my Uncle Paul to teach him the bass. James always says, "Uncle Paul knows best", just because his dad _adores_ the Beatles. James isn't a freak about it with me, which is nice. He likes the Beatles as much as I do, but we don't talk about it. That's just weird to do. It's rare to talk about it, but we do listen to it together.

My mom popped her head out of the kitchen doorway, "Who wants to help me with the cake?"

Why does my mom have the worst timing in the history of timing?

My friends looked back at me and gave me teasing smirks. I rolled my eyes playfully, hoping they wouldn't embarrass me. I was really, really quiet at school, they knew. And when I did talk, I tried to be clever all the time. My teachers told my mum that I had a "strong personality", which really meant that I was a bitch. I know the word "bitch" because I've heard Uncle Paul use it when I was listening to him and my mum's conversations when I was supposedly "off to bed". Yeah, you could call me an eavesdropper. I gave my friend a wave.

I looked around the crowded room with only one aim. There were so many people, but I wasn't really willing to talk to anybody, especially since my friends went off. I went on my toes, glancing at every inch of the living room to see if maybe my _real father_ was here. Before he left with some strange woman who was my stepmother (with the most frizzy black hair I've ever seen that resembled some angry sea monster from one of mum's fairy tales), he promised he would come back to see me, "his princess". I've been waiting since my eighth birthday with no avail. Sure, it's only been two years, but still.

I pressed my nose against the window, hoping to spot a Volkswagen, or a Porsche, or a Rolls Royce, or even a cab pulling up into my driveway. Every time a car would pass, it would leave me sitting on the ledge of the window myself. I sighed hopelessly. He probably forgot about me. It's been two years. That's a lot of days, if you know what I mean. Mum says that time goes faster when your older, but the thing is, she tells me to be patient too much. I mean, I've waited 365 days..._twice_. I can't do the addition in my head yet, but that's a long time if you really think about it. He's not that busy, is he? I've wasted 17 candles already, wishing that he would come. It was useless...what would I wish for now?


	3. Chapter 3

**September 9, 1971**

**1720 Menlove Avenue**

**The Dining Room Table  
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**11:00 p.m.**

So, what did I wish for, you ask?

"Make a wish, honey!" My mother chirped cheerfully, setting down the seven-layer chocolate cake on the table. If there's one thing that my mom knew best about me, it was my taste in desserts.

I looked at the cake eagerly, and at the ten candles on top, twinkling merrily. I smiled at the group surrounding me, looking at me avidly after a loud and vivacious round of "Happy Birthday". I closed my eyes and told myself: _Even though you're just birthday candles, please let me meet my dad..._

I took a deep breath and blew out the candles, so the cheerful light were gone, and one more birthday wish was wasted. I hope I didn't waste it on just anything. Birthday wishes are valuable...I guess my dad was valuable enough, wasn't he?

The group clapped and cheered. Ringo exclaimed over the noise, "Happy Birthday, Lucy!"

I smiled sheepishly at all the attention surrounding me, "Gee, it's like I'm Dusty Springfield or something." I always shot a witty comment when I felt awkward. You should try it sometime, it's a big confidence booster. Uncle Ringo says I get my wit from my father. It's nice to think that I get something from him. I looked to my mother and beamed, "Presents now?"

Mum rolled her eyes, giving me a fond smirk. She nodded simply, saying delicately, "Yes, Lucy, you can open your presents now."

This was my favorite part of my birthday. It was so much fun, staying up late to eat birthday cake and open presents after having a party. Even though my mum lived on a tight budget and could be a bit too cross, she threw the best birthday parties. All my friends knew it too. Sure, it wasn't Petunia Gable's birthday party with the pony rides and expensive party favors, but it was better. Besides, Petunia was one of the infinite number of snobs at my school.

George handed me a box wrapped in shiny, vivid orange wrapping paper with a red bow. He looked at Pattie lovingly and looked back to me eagerly. Paul and Ringo smirked, Paul nudging George. I raised an eyebrow, smirking, "Is it the monkey with super intelligence I asked for?"

George rolled his eyes playfully, "Just open it."

"Or is it the elephant I asked for?" I tapped my chin.

"OPEN IT!" They all exclaimed. "Damn, Lucy, you got that mouth from somewhere," Ringo rolled his eyes playfully.

I grinned and unwrapped the gift, and pushed the pink wrapping paper out of the way to reveal a bright orange sari, decorated with gold embroidery. I gasped, my eyes getting as wide as saucers as I stared at the south Asian article of clothing. "Wow..." I whispered, looking up at George and running over to hug him. "This is so cool. I'm wearing it to school on Monday."

Mum gave me a death stare. I just smirked at her and returned back to the table. I had a feeling mum knew that I changed into my own designs when I got to school. Some snobs at school made a rumor that I was just released from a mental hospital, that's why I was such a weirdo.

The rest of my presents were pretty amazing. It was so nice not to be able to complain about itchy, ugly sweaters or socks gifted by grandparents or _parents_. I had nothing to worry about. Uncle Ringo got me one of those fancy silver record players with Jimi Hendrix's _Electric Ladyland_. I was searching for that for months, you know. Maureen gave me her own gift, she got me a pair of white leather boots from Germany. It must've been nice to be able to travel wherever the hell you want. Paul and Linda got me a Polaroid camera with a couple Polaroid refills. Rebecca got me a soccer ball, since that was her second favorite thing to ballet (she always wanted to play soccer with me after school, so now we could). Jane got me a baby blue cashmere sweater and a couple pretty hair ties for ballet class, being the girl she is. Clementine and Jane (being twins) got me a silk headband with my initials embroidered in green, they made it themselves! James got me a big pile of books, about World War II, since he knew I was really into reading about that stuff at the moment. Julian gave me a toy Mustang. The kid could be adorable for an annoying younger brother, he knew my taste in cars. My mom gave me _ten pounds _to buy whatever the hell I wanted. How she trusted me was always a mystery. She knew I was a troublemaker.

Soon enough, everybody's parents came to round up my friends, and my "uncles" had to leave too. But before Paul left the door, he turned on his heel and handed me a rugged package, tied in string. He told me softly, "From someone special in New York." He gave me a wink and gave my mother a hug. Then, he left.

"Off to bed, Lucy," My mother told me, looking nervously, suspiciously at the package and back to me.

I quickly kissed her and took the steps two at a time, tearing down the hallway. I raced into my room and closed the door behind me, hoping on the bed to examine the strange package from Paul. My heart raced, _Who could it be from?_

I looked at the return address:

_The Dakota_

_1 West 72nd Street_

_New York, New York_

_10023_

Seriously, who could it be? I ripped open the package...and my father finally came to my birthday. I saw his face in a light shade of blue, and on the top left corner there was a cloud, which read: _Imagine, John Lennon_. It was his new LP. I opened it, looking in awe at the track list and the pictures of him. It really was my father. A letter fell out at the opening. I took it in my hands, shaking excitedly. I opened it delicately, folding it open to find my dad's handwriting. I read:

_Dear Lucy,_

_Happy tenth birthday. I know you might be asking yourself why your jerk-off father is sending you a birthday present, but I decided to try to make it up to you. See, my new album is coming out on your birthday, so here's a copy. Your a Beatles fan, right? I hope you don't like Paul more than me, because this is the best gift I could come up with. See my return address? Write me a letter sometime, so you can talk to your old daddy. Who knows? Maybe you could visit sometime. Don't forget to listen to the album, I want to know what you think about it in your next letter. I bet your so beautiful, my ten year old. I hope you inherited the right genes, God knows you don't want to look like your monster father. Give Julian a kiss for me. I hope this letter isn't that cheesy, Paul visited and told me you have good taste in books and all. I hear you write a little, too. Just don't become as bad of a writer as me, promise? Like I said, I hope you like the album._

_Your father, _

_John Lennon_

I pressed it to my heart, trying to contain my squeals since my mom thought I was in bed. I couldn't wait to show Julian! He _finally _came. Maybe not in person, but close enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**September 14, 1971**

**Liverpool, England**

**1720 Menlove Avenue**

**7:15 a.m.**

I kissed Julian on the head, rubbing his hair affectionately. I sighed happily, "Isn't it such a magnificent day?" I was in a blissful daze after reading that letter from dad about 10 times. He released an _album _on _my _birthday. Not Yoko's, not his...but _mine_.

"Ew, coodies!" Julian wrinkled his nose.

I stuck the letter in front of his face, chirping giddily, "Daddy told me to give you a kiss!"

His eyes opened as wide as those alien spacecrafts they talked about in the free newspapers near the market. I laughed as he took the letter into his hands like it was the biggest diamond ever known by man. He looked up at me skeptically, "This isn't forged?"

"Duh!" I told him, sitting across from him at the dining table as I piled my books into my leather cross-body for school. Suddenly, I heard footsteps approaching the dining room. It was probably mum. I quickly snatched the letter away and hid it under the table.

He protested, "Hey!"

"Shut up, mom's coming!" I hissed in a quick whisper. I slid it into my pocket slyly as my blond-headed mother came into the kitchen, dressed and ready for work.

My mom gave me a look as she walked to the kitchen, eying my pocket. "Lucy Julia Lennon, is there something you're hiding from me? There are no secrets in this house."

"No, mother," I rolled my eyes as I poured myself and Julian a glass of orange juice.

My mother narrowed her eyes and started in a grave tone, "Lu-"

I quickly glanced at the time and looked towards my mom, saying hurriedly as I rushed out of the kitchen to avoid a scolding, "Ohlooktimeforschoolloveyoumom...BYE!" I rushed down the cobblestone steps to see Rebecca Cliff and Jane Foster waiting for me, perched on top of their bicycles with their muscular ballerina bodies.

I swung my leg over my newly spray-painted gold bicycle, tightening the strap of my leather schoolbag and looking to my friends. "Hey guys."

"Hey, belated birthday girl," Jane winked energetically. It was a mystery how Jane fit into our crowd. She was a bubbly, outgoing, slightly ditzy blondie who's interests included pastel colors, her spot in the school newspaper's advice column, and anything but EVERYTHING girly. Thank God she didn't like the Beach Boys, because then there would really be a mystery on her hands. We put up with her anyway. Jane is one of the sweetest girls you've ever met, that's why she sometimes lets people step on her too much. That's why friends like us are here.

Rebecca rolled her eyes playfully, "So, did your dad make a stop while we were gone?"

"Kind of," My face curled into a grin as we slowly pedaled down my block.

Jane squealed, "Oh. My. _Gosh!"_

_"No way!" _Rebecca punched my arm. She never meant to punch hard, but she really does.

I winced, "Ouch!"

Rebecca rolled her eyes, "Come _on_, woman, tell us!"

"Fine, fine," I rolled my eyes as we turned a street corner, "Well, his new album came out the day of my birthday, he actually let it come out on my birthday!"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Jane raised an eyebrow as the wind pushed a strand of her platinum blond hair in her face, and she pushed it back.

"Let me talk," I continued, "So, he sent me the album and a letter. He was talking about how much he loved me, and how beautiful he thought I was! He told me to kiss Julian, and that I should talk to him through letters...isn't that so groovy?"

"Talk about groovy," Jane's eyes widened as they pulled over to school and leaned their bikes over on the fence in front of the regal building, locking them securely.

Rebecca furrowed her eyebrows, "Did he say anything about your mother?"

Suddenly, I was under the realization of how much I'd hurt my mother. I would be covering up to her that I would be writing letters to her ex-husband, the man who cheated on her.


	5. Chapter 5

**September 15, 1971**

**Liverpool, England**

**Griffin Academy**

**11:23 a.m.**

I sat in the waiting room outside Headmaster Freedman's office. I winced at the sound of the famous wooden ruler being smacked ruthlessly on bare hands. Could there be a day where I didn't get in trouble? I get some pretty decent grades, straight A's and all, but sometimes my teachers could be idiots. The thing is, we were talking about the Vietnam War. Our teacher was talking about how war was the exception to violence, how it was beneficial violence. See, I disagreed...well, I called it out. This is what my teachers meant by "strong personality". Then Petunia said I liked girls, so I said she was an airhead and ended up breaking her nose when we started fighting. So here I was.

Bradley Harrington stepped out, his face flushed and his hands quite red. I sighed heavily and walked in, closing the door behind me to be face to face with Headmaster Freedman. I think I set the world record for most visits to the headmaster's office. I stared him right in his beady, black eyes. He furrowed his bushy gray mustache and leaned back in his leather chair, holding his hands together. "Can you explain to me, Miss Lennon, why Petunia Gable is in the nurse's office with a broken nose?"

I stuffed my hands into my school blazer, shrugging wordlessly. "Happens to everyone."

He shot daggers at me. I winced slightly, but stood firmly. Sure, people said I was a no-good rebel. People said I had the grades, but the attitude would put me down-hill. Whatever. I knew I was standing up for everyone who's been made inferior. Nothing's gonna change my world, just like dad said.

The headmaster stood up, looking at me crossly. He put his hands on the table, leaning over at me so his long and crooked nose was inches away from mine. He narrated to me sinisterly, "At the moment, you're going _nowhere_. Your a poor excuse for a girl you know, and if you don't straighten out, your grades and your idiotic wit will take you, and I repeat, _nowhere_."

"Is _nowhere_ full of geniuses, sir? If it is, I probably do belong there," I raised an eyebrow, mocking his edge on "nowhere". Everyone made it clear to me that I wasn't worth anything: my father for leaving me, my teachers for making me work my ass off for every grade, my headmaster for telling me I was going nowhere. I couldn't let any of them see that they broke me...

_Dear dad,_

_ Sorry for not writing in a while, the teachers are harsher than ever. You must be proud of me, huh? Being able to tell you I get straight A's and detention every day...hey, that's a rhyme. Maybe that can work it's way into an album. Mom says I'm a "handful". She has this signature sigh of her's, I'll have to record it and send it to you on tape one day. I mean, I don't do bad stuff just for the fun of it. That's plain idiotic. I just want to be worth something. Sh, don't tell anyone. I never tell anyone anything, just in case they leave me. I bet you were a prodigy at school, weren't you? I mean, I'm sure there was some kind of hint that you would be so successful._

_By the way, the album is pretty groovy. It makes me feel like I'm in a dream, you know? All the piano and classical instruments playing and just looking on the inside of the LP. I could probably do ballet to some of those stuff if I choreographed well. Did I tell you I did ballet since I was three? I never really got to show you my first pair of ballet shoes because you were in America when I started. Hey, maybe I could send you a picture like that too. _

_Miss you,_

_Lucy Lennon  
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	6. Chapter 6

**June 9, 1973**

**London, England **[edit: Lucy lives with her mom and brother in London. This is a bit better for the storyline :P]**  
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**1720 Menlove Avenue  
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**9:00 p.m.**

My mom looked up at me weakly. "Lucy, you get flying hundreds in every subject. Can't you _behave_?"

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. I flicked a piece of my honey-colored waves out of my face. "Mom, did _you _ever get tormented in school every day of your life?**"**

"That's not the point of this discussion," She cleared her throat awkwardly, shifting in her rickety kitchen chair. That just fueled my anger more. Nobody gave a fuck about us, nobody wanted to help us. My own father, I have his nose and all, and he doesn't give a rat's ass. It just proves how much I'm worth something. "I'm sending you to your grandmother's this summer."

"Which one?"

My mother took a sip of her tea and told me shortly, "Mimi. She already knows."

I raised an eyebrow. Mimi was technically my great aunt, but she was a grandmother just because she raised my father. Mimi could be quite the bitch when I misbehaved. She'd probably be flaming mad when I came to her. I liked her a lot, I really did, but it wasn't at all pleasant when she was mad. I'd probably be locked in the house all summer. "What the hell?"

"Lucy!" My mother said sharply, standing up. "You have a 10-year-old brother living here!"

"Why should I care? Nobody gives a crap about me! My own mother doesn't even want me! Just give me the plane ticket now and I'll leave now to save you the trouble!" Tears started to swell up in my eyes, and I swallowed. I said in a whisper, "Why can't someone just want me for once."

My mom sighed, looking at me with eyes of worry. "Lu-"

I shook my head and ran up the stairs, snatching my letter from my father and ripping it to pieces. I was a no good criminal to everyone...**  
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	7. Chapter 7

**June 18, 1973**

**London, England **

**The Airport**

**8:00 a.m.**

"Love you, Lucy," My mom kissed me on the head as we were outside the taxi cab that drove us to the airport.

I hated to admit it, but I replied to my mother, "I love you too." I tried to hold back the tears. Stupid emotions. They didn't get you anywhere in life, it was just some figment of your imagination that was useless.

Suddenly, Julian enveloped me in a hug. I hugged him back tightly. Damn, I loved my brother. He was the one who could always cheer me up, no matter what. He would be sure some man one day, I hope he would get the girl of his dreams someday.

I picked up my leather suitcase and took in the last of London air. I waved back at Julian and my mother as I proceeded into the airport for the last time until fall arrived. Everything around me seemed to be moving hectically except me. I was just standing there, frozen. I could barely hear anything except for the officer stamping my passport narrating, "Terminal 3."

I sighed heavily and walked through the airport, ready for whatever came at me. I was leaving everything behind for the summer just to be transported to another person who probably doesn't give a damn about me. I was leaving _James _behind. We were going to work at the record shop together, drink lemonade every day, and listen to records all summer. I wanted to drag him along with me like I did when I dared him to go on a roller coaster with me at the fair.

After checking out my luggage, I gripped my handbag tightly and proceeded into the plane. I looked back shortly. Goodbye London. Goodbye James.

"Um, miss," A flight attendant interrupted my daze. "The flight will be taking off in a matter of minutes. Would you please take your seat?" I looked to her obliviously and nodded wordlessly. I took my seat in the last row of the plane, gazing out the window.

"Good morning passengers, in less then 50 seconds we will be taking off for your flight to New York City."

_New York City?_

Oh boy, did I really get out of my daze. My mother would _kill _me for getting on this flight. This time, I actually cared.


	8. Chapter 8

**June 18, 1973**

**New York, New York**

**The Dakota**

**9:45 a.m.**

Here I was, waiting outside the Dakota looking like an idiot. I never really cared that much about what I'm wearing until I started looking around me. It's not just that either. I mean, this guy who was my father didn't even know that his own daughter was dropping by his apartment because she's lost in Manhattan. Talk about embarrassing...

I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. It was the moment of truth. A man of about six foot one with broad shoulders and circular glasses answered the door, scratching the wavy, semi-long hair a top his head. I could only gape like a toddler at a new toy. "Are you from the press?" He gave me a look, cocking one of his eyebrows.

"I...um...no, I...well, I..." I stammered speechlessly, scolding myself at the inability of not replying. I sure was an idiot. He may not want to keep me if I'm acting like I'm mental!

He sighed impatiently, "Look, it's early in the morning, why don't you take your autogra-"

"I'm Lucy Julia Lennon," I finally said, barely able to believe my own words. I was talking to the man I sent about twenty letters but didn't even see since he was wearing a mop top and I was seven years old.

He raised both eyebrows, stepping forward, "_What? _Are you going mad? I suggest you find some proper care, you know."

"Want proof?" I raised an eyebrow, taken aback. Compared to those letters he sent me, John Lennon could sure be a damn well git. I mean, it's one thing to not believe me, but it's another to suggest I'm off my rocker.

John shook his head, waving away my question like a fly. "Listen, I don't need any proof. This is the biggest publicity scam I've ever come across."

I threw him all the letters he sent me in a pile, tied up in a red ribbon. I glared, "Missed you too, _daddy_." I stormed down the hallway to the elevator, leaving him speechless and Yoko coming to the door, asking what just happened. I just ran out of the elevator, ran across the street without looking and right into Central Park, plopping down on a bench, my eyes filling with hot tears. Why did God even let me live? So people could just bounce me back and forth like a soccer ball? I mean, I don't believe there's anything really _wrong _with me, was there? I didn't throw a tantrum to my mother if I didn't get a certain dress like Petunia Gables, and I didn't talk solely of myself, boasting constantly, like Anna Worthington. Sure, I was strong-minded, but I didn't know my own family could dislike me so much. Hot tears spilled down on my high-waisted black trousers as I contemplated who exactly was I. Was I a nuisance to society? I guess by the time my mother finds out what happens, she'll put me up for adoption...

"Did you _really _break someone's nose over a debate about the Vietnam War?" Someone questioned in front of me. I lifted my head to find John Winston Ono Lennon looking at me square in my vivid green eyes. He didn't seem pleased, but not upset either. He plopped down next to me, still looking at me and completely ignoring people's murmurs along the lines of, "That's John _Lennon_!"

My eyes filled with water looked up at him, and I nodded silently. I barely spoke, "Yeah. All because of you, too."

"You've grown so big...and you're sure smarter than I was at this age," My _father _half-smiled at me. "Now...since I'm supposed to be your father and be 'responsible', how in God's name did you end up on my doorstep...?"

"Well," I started, sighing heavily and looking down at my black pair of Ray-Bans, "My mom was sending me to Great Aunt Mimi, _your _Aunt Mimi, for the summer so I could 'contemplate on and improve my behavior'. I accidentally went into the wrong terminal..._thirteen _was for Liverpool but I went into _three _instead. And since you're the only address I know in New York, I blew all my spare pounds on a cab ride to your place to see if maybe, just maybe, you could let me make a call or something..."

Now, he was giving me a full grin, "Miss Lennon, I wasn't the most cheerful man alive when I first saw you, but now that you told me what happened, you are sure as hell my daughter."

I looked down, smiling sheepishly. "You mean it?"

"'Course...now, listen, you'll have to talk to your mother before she thinks that I plotted this all out."

I giggled.

He smirked and poked my nose, "I'm serious, you hear? Then, you'll let me talk to her. I hope she let's you stay for the summer."

I looked up quickly and raised an eyebrow, "You'll keep _me _for the _whole _summer...? Seriously?"

"Don't act so surprised!" He looked down and then looked back up. "I mean, I'm your father, isn't it some responsibility of mine?"

"But...what about working on your album? And Yoko? She won't want me around...I'm not one of hers, I don't want to be some kind of intruder, you know? And...and...you'll let down your fans! They want an album, they don't want to see some daughter of yours fall from the sky and into your life! You make _amazing _music, I don't want to just butt in and all...and...and..."

He put his finger to my mouth. "Listen, Yoko's good about this stuff. I'll talk to her, okay? It's alright, Lucy. She'll like you for thinking about her like that...and about the music, don't you know that you're inspiration already...?" He wiped my tears.

I bit my lip and hugged him tightly. Listen, I hated being emotional, but this was the exception. I said breathlessly, "I love you _so _much, dad..."


	9. Chapter 9

**June 18, 1973**

**New York, New York**

**The Dakota**

**6:30 p.m.**

"Hi, Yoko...I'm Lucy Lennon. It's really a pleasure to meet you," I nodded, shaking the hand of my stepmother, clad in a flowing silk white dress and unkempt black hair. I didn't like her all that much yet. I mean, my dad cheated on my beautiful mother with this woman. I guess time could only tell...

She nodded at me, smiling slightly, "Oh, you have your father's appearance. You're a beautiful girl." She looked back at John slightly dissatisfied. My palms were kind of sweaty. I desperately needed her to like me, or else I could just call it quits.

The phone suddenly rang. My father gave me a nod, signaling me to go take it. I went off and grabbed the receiver off the dial, answering, "Hello?"

I heard my mother in a rage: "_Lucy Julia Lennon, where in God's name are you? You're at your father's house, aren't you? I knew it, I bloody knew it! You probably plotted this all from day one, didn't you? I swear, once you get back here, I'm going to give you something you won't forget, you hear me? Now why don't you tell me how you got there?"_

"Mom, listen, it really was an accident...I-I went through terminal three instead of thirteen..." I said awkwardly, still wincing from her deadly screams through the telephone.

There was silence. Then she sighed, "Let me talk to John."

I handed the telephone to John and turned back to Yoko. She looked slightly peeved. "I-I can leave, i-if you want me to, Yoko..."

She pursed her lips, but then smirked apologetically. "I don't think that will be needed. I think John had as greatly missed his daughter as I missed mine..it is a blessing to have a daughter. He helped me find my daughter, so I will have to accept that he needs bonding time with his daughter, yes?"

"Um...thank you. I-I hope we can be friends or something..." I nodded awkwardly.

She chuckled, shaking her head. "We aren't exactly school mates, but we'll see, yes?"

I was about to reply until a force picked me off the ground. "Miss Lennon, you'll be staying for the summer with Yoko and I."

"Really?" I raised both eyebrows at the person who picked me up, the one and only, my father. "She seriously said yes?"

"Sure did," He nodded, putting me down. "She was being a bit snobby about it at first, but I got the woman to go through with the deal. She just told me some stuff about raising you and all...you can go unpack, if you'd like..."

I looked to him, who sat down on the couch with Yoko, holding her hand and kissing her neck, whispering something inaudible, but ending with, "my love". It killed me to see him with her, but I simply nodded. I half-smiled. "Thanks for letting me stay...I guess it's not everyday you let someone stay with you for the summer when they just plopped on your doorstep."

I walked off, the sole of my old and wrinkled leather Mary-Jane flats clicking on the wood paneled floor. I looked around in wonder. My dad had stuff I could only obtain in my dreams. I knew one thing: I owed him big time.

I walked into the guest room, opening one of the two leather suitcases I brought so I could fold my clothing into my dresser. Wow, it feels so nice for someone to take care of you. It felt nice to have someone _want _you to stay. I smirked to myself at the sari I brought with me, something I brought just so I could piss off Mimi one day in the summer.

Someone knocked on the door: it was yet again, dad. I said, "Hello, old coot."

"You're a big mouth." He said, sitting down on the guest bed as I unfolded my clothes. He looked at my bright orange birthday present sari. "Where did you get that sari?"

I replied, "George Harrison got it for me, from India. I would wear it just to piss people off, or to Vietnam War protests. You know, just to represent all those innocent people down there getting killed by people trying to protect them, know what I mean?"

"George _Harrison_? How the hell did he get it for your birthday...?"

"Well, your three acquaintances, I don't know if you call them friends anymore, they came to my birthday parties...every year." I clicked open my other suitcase, with all the stuff that I had to have with me constantly. I took out _Electric Ladyland _from the back pocket. "See, Ringo got me this..."

He suddenly fell silent as he looked at all my stuff and I sat next to him, taking out my neon orange typewriter next. "This is my typewriter. It was a really cheapie, but I like it because Bridgette Bardot had one exactly like this in _The Vixen_."

My father furrowed his eyebrows, asking me bewildered, "How did you watch _The Vixen_?"

I shrugged, mumbling in amusement, "My friends and I snuck in after we watched _How To Steal a Million_."

"Lucy, you're a piece of work, you know that?"

I laughed and he did, too.


	10. Chapter 10

**June 19, 1973**

**New York, New York**

**The Dakota**

**5:30 a.m.**

Curse jet lag. It could be such a bitch sometimes. It left me tossing and turning in bed at five in the morning, and I soon just got up and wandered into the darkness of my guest room. I rummaged through my luggage to find my pointe shoes and laced them up quietly. I bit my lip to get the perfect fit. My mom also knew that it would kill me that I wouldn't have ballet classes to take. I guess I could manage...so thank you, jet lag, for letting me catch up with me ballet.

I stood up and took a deep sigh, retying my hair into a tighter ponytail. I placed my hand on the chair, acting as my barre as I went on releve. I strengthened my legs and stretched a bit until resting in fifth. I practiced continuously, jumping and twirling like nobody was sleeping at 5 in the morning. I loved it when the door was closed and nobody was watching.

Suddenly, I heard the faint notes on the piano...

I cracked the door open slightly to find my dad, sitting on the piano. _"We're playing those mind games together, pushing the barrier..."_

I approached him delicately, clicking in my pointe shoes. I approached the bench, whispering carefully and slightly stuttering, "T-that's really beautiful, you know."

He jumped slightly and turned around, putting on his glasses. He sighed in relief, "It's only you...Lucy, you scared the hell out of me, you know." He looked down at my feet. "Oh, so you're a ballerina, ain't you?" He playfully pinched my cheeks.

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes and swatted away his hand, "It's harder than it looks."

"Then twirl around for me, beautiful," He smirked, mockingly crossing his legs and adjusting his glasses poshly. He put on a grandmother voice, "Go on, me dear, I didn't pay one hundred pounds for nothing."

I bit my lip and smiled to myself. "I need some piano for it, you know."

He shook his head, "You're so difficult. Just do it, lad."

I nodded and sighed, shaking out my arms. Finally. My dad wasn't touring, my dad wasn't busy with something, it was just me and him. There were finally no interruptions, just us and the sunrise. I turned around gracefully in my pointe shoes, doing a fouette turn just like I saw the Black Swan do in Swan Lake when Paul took me for my eleventh birthday. I turned to him eagerly, to see him smiling. "What do you think?"

"You're like Anna Pavlova or something." He beamed.

"You know," I approached the white piano bench, plopping down next to him. "I know how to play the piano. My brother plays the guitar, he's trying to start a band. But I like more classical stuff...what should I play...?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Well, what do you know? Ba Ba Blacksheep?"

"Well, I know lots of your stuff."

"Have the notes?"

"I learned by ear..." I placed my fingers on the keys and tapped out "Imagine" from my fingers. He looked at me in amazement, saying, "Wow..."

I nodded and blushed, "I know this may sound stupid, but I know a lot of Beatles songs..."

He patted me on the head, "You're funny. Hey...is there any place you wanna go today? I was thinking, since today's Saturday and I'm not working, we can do whatever shit you wanna do..."

I looked up at him, my eyes growing wide. I was definitely waking up. Was he serious?


	11. Chapter 11

**June 19, 1973**

**New York, New York**

**The Upper West Side**

**11:00 a.m.**

"So, how's Julian?" My dad questioned as we walked down the block, distancing ourselves from The Dakota. It looked so regal for far away, up close it just looked big. He stuffed his hands into his jean pockets, looking down, even though everyone was looking at him like he was God. When he asked about Julian, it was almost like he was on my level. He wasn't my father _John Lennon_. He was my dad. My actual dad.

I shrugged, sighing airily, "He's like all little brothers. Annoying, trying to find something entertaining he'll stick with...but still my brother, you know? I like him a lot, he's good to talk to. He's really smart too, gosh. Most kids his age are real obnoxious, dig?"

My dad nodded, looking up. I saw people gaping at me, and many called out to John asking who I was. People photographed me and him, like I was a two headed lion and he was...well, John Lennon. "So he's into guitars, right?"

"He's _obsessed_," I replied, "He's saving up for a guitar. He's trying to form a band too, you know. All his school mates...I'm trying to convince him to do it for the talent show, just to liven it up, everything is such a _snoozer _there. Julian will be good. I know he will. He's the smartest kid I know, like I said."

John smirked, lighting up a cigarette, "What a kid. And how about you? You're all classical, I guess. Piano and ballet, right?"

"Well, I'm not prissy!" I complained, furrowing my eyebrows.

"Relax, I read your letters. You must be a handful with all you do for your poor mother."

I rolled my eyes and muttered, "That's why she sent me away. She thinks I'll just magically get myself straight if I hang around your Aunt Mimi, just because she has some of her blood. She doesn't want to send me to you, she just wants me 'straightened out'."

My dad coughed awkwardly and replied, "So, what do you like to eat?"

"Well, I like sushi loads. And pizza." I told him, "Be warned, I'm also a sucker for chocolate. If you don't want to blow your money on desserts, make sure there's no chocolate."

He laughed, "You like sushi?"

"It's to die for. Does Yoko like sushi?"

"Sure does," He replied, "I don't care for it much."

I raised my eyebrows, "You? Really? You two seem like such a match." It killed me to say it.

"Don't seem so surprised."

"I'll try," I retorted quickly. I was sarcastic and witty by habit, it was terrible.


	12. Chapter 12

**June 19, 1973**

**New York, New York**

**Central Park  
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**2:00 p.m.**

Eventually, we had lunch, he took me to all sorts of groovy places, and we had a long walk through the park. "It's a good place for thinking," He told me, "It's really big, and really beautiful, but you could still see all the skyscrapers."

"Good place for thinking? It's so big and beautiful I could get lost and never bother to be found!" I told him, running forward and spinning down the concrete pathway. My dad smirked at me and I started walking backwards to face him. "You're the luckiest man in the world, you know."

He waved away the comment like an annoying fly. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes I wonder how people will remember me."

I was taken aback. I turned around to walk with him. "W-what do you mean? You're a genius and all..." It was weird calling my father a genius when he was the one who contributed to most of my doubts and sighs of my early childhood since the age of seven. I'm not being harsh, I promise you. I just wanted to be honest. This was the perfect time.

"Sometimes I think I could do more."

I sighed sharply, holding my chin up, "You owe it to me."

He looked at me, bewildered. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I knew I should've never opened my mouth...but at the same time, it was the only time I really did like that. My mom always told me to be courteous and well-mannered, so I took that as to never tell anyone how I honestly felt. Only now did I realize what she meant. I would take out all that resentment in making trouble and trying to find power from something.

I gulped, "You heard me..."

He stopped and looked at me, sighing. "Are you tired? Do you want to go home?"

"Listen, I've been waiting since I was born for you. Every year I would _wish, _hoping you would come find me because I didn't know where the hell you were. It was always 'he's on tour' or 'daddy's not here anymore'. Well, I'm tired of that. As much as I love you, and you supposedly love me, can you prove it? I'm sorry if this isn't what you wanna hear from me, but for all my life in school I've been taking this all out in causing trouble and trying to find power from someone, some_thing_." I told him, and looked up at the trees. "And you're right, this place is good for thinking."

John Lennon, for once, remained silent. We just walked. I heard him mumble, "So, what did I miss?"

"Besides what I said in letters you hardly wrote back to?"

He gave me one nod, looking up.

I stopped, and I gave him a hug and we just stood in the middle of the pathway, not caring who was staring or who was taking pictures or who was pointing. Finally, this was what I was waiting for. I sighed, "We both have some catching up to do..."

I looked up, "Thanks for not leaving me behind, you know. Everyone always does."


End file.
